


Benched

by apollosoyuz



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollosoyuz/pseuds/apollosoyuz
Summary: One bad landing was all it took to break Yuuri's leg and now he's benched for the season, but the person taking Yuuri's time off the hardest is Viktor; afraid that the injury could be enough to force Yuuri to leave skating -- and leave his side.





	

"I always forget how cold it is in here when you're not moving around," Yuuri laughed, wrapping his arms tight around himself and fighting off a shiver.

"Here," Viktor pulled off his warm-up jacket and draped it over Yuuri's shoulders. "Take my coat."

"Now you'll be cold-"

"I'll be fine. I'll be skating - unlike you," he bent down and kissed the top of Yuuri's head.

"You're so mean," Yuuri mock-pouted as he pulled Viktor's red and white Olympic jacket tight around himself, taking a deep breath and drinking in the scent of the fabric - Viktor's scent - clean laundry soap and rose shampoo.

"It's not my fault you missed that landing, sweetheart," Viktor taunted gently as he pulled off his blade guards, "though I guess it's my loss, because we won't be able to skate our pas de deux for a while."

Yuuri shifted the position of his foot propped up on the rinkside bench. Even injured and unable to practice, his leg still rested in an effortless straddle split on the bench beside him, elevated on top of Viktor's skating bag. The blue cast on his leg was covered in scribbled names and drawings - most of them done in Viktor's elegant hand.

"Does it still hurt?" Viktor's smile twisted a bit as he asked, as if pained himself.

"Not really," Yuuri patted the top of his cast reassuringly. "Don't worry about me - I'm fine."

"Are you still cold?"

Yuuri shook his head. "Go skate, Vitya. I'll cheer you on."

"Always my biggest fan," Viktor sighed mockingly -  lovingly - as he pushed off the fresh ice, but a thread of grief still laced through his words.

 

"So you're out of commission for a while, then?" Yurio tossed his bag down on the floor and plopped down on the bench beside Yuuri to change into his skates.

"Mmh," Yuuri nodded, "I was afraid they'd have to put pins in it, but they said the break was clean enough that it would be fine to heal on its own. I've got a picture of the x-ray if you want to see-" Yuuri pulled up the photo on his phone, but Yurio held up his hand to cover it, turning away.

"That's disgusting! Keep it to yourself, Katsuki!"

Yuuri laughed, setting his phone down again. "I didn't think you'd be squeamish about this kind of thing, Yurio."

"I'm not squeamish," Yurio huffed, tying off the laces on his skate and standing up. "It's just gross, that's all! Who'd want to see a nasty thing like that?"

"Mila thought it was pretty cool," Yuuri shrugged. "It was pretty scary at first, though - I nearly threw up when I looked down and saw my bones sticking out through the skin." All this he said with a laugh, as if the matter was nothing more serious than their usual conversation.

"Yeah, I remember," Yurio turned away, stepping out onto the edge of the ice. "Like I said - it was nasty."

"I'm just lucky it's during the off-season and not during competitions. The doctor said I should be fine to start light skating again in four months. But wow, saying it out loud, it really sounds like a long time..." he laughed again, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Anyway, you go skate - I'll cheer you on from here."

 

It wasn't until Yurio had turned away that Yuuri let the smile dissolve from his face. His leg was still throbbing beneath the cast, and the pain medications the doctor had given him weren't helping much, but even worse was the deep ache of his disappointment. He had been looking forward to skating alongside Yurio and Viktor this season, but something so sudden as one bad jump had taken everything away. And four months was a bit optimistic - it was likely to be closer to six months before he could be on the ice again, and even then no jumps or spins or lifts - he'd be like a baby again, unsteady on his own feet, unsure, timid, grasping at Viktor's hands to hold him upright.

 

And Viktor...

 

Yuuri let out a long sigh, rubbing at the spot just above his cast as if that feeling could somehow transfer down to the aching part of his leg. The fall itself had been so surreal - one moment he was fine, launching himself up into an axel, and the next moment he had been down on the ice. He hadn't even noticed the injury at first - he had tried to get right back up to keep tempo with his music, and the broken bone had shifted, stabbing outward and breaking sharply through his skin. That was when the pain had washed over him in a hot wave, sending him back down to the ice, grasping desperately at his leg, swimming in and out of consciousness. That was when he had screamed. But even worse than the pain had been Viktor's reaction - the fear on his face as he rushed across the ice - sloppy, stumbling over himself, sliding to a stop on his knees to be at Yuuri's side a second faster. Viktor had been more panicked than Yuuri himself.

 

"It's okay, Viktor," he remembered saying weakly as Viktor wrapped a shaking arm around his shoulders, "it's gonna be okay," and then the heavy blanket of unconsciousness pulled him down into oblivion. Everything after that was all in bits and pieces - Viktor had lifted him and carried him off the ice; Yuuri remembered the feeling of Viktor's strong arms around him. He vaguely remembered Yurio gingerly unlacing his skates - his hesitance to touch Yuuri's foot that was dangling at such a precarious angle. He had come back into consciousness after that - drawn forcibly back by the pain - and he had sobbed and clawed at the front of Viktor's jacket as Yurio, shouting apologies all the while, pulled the skate off his foot.

 

Then an ambulance had taken him, and the whole world grew softer and warmer as they filled him with morphine. Through the haze of the drugs, he remembered Viktor's terrified crying face as they rode together in the ambulance, and how Viktor's whole body had been shaking as he clutched tightly to Yuuri's hand. He remembered pulling Viktor's hand to his lips to kiss the back of his fingers, whispering that everything was going to be alright - comforting Viktor as if he was the one lying there injured.

 

He remembered that the paramedic had laughed and made a comment about Viktor being lucky his boyfriend was so levelheaded in a crisis. He had announced to the paramedic that Viktor was his fiancé, and the paramedic had congratulated them, but Viktor had said nothing, as if he was in shock. His eyes, wide with horror, flickered back and forth from Yuuri's face to the awkward angle of his leg, and he had been so pale.... Yuuri couldn't quite remember, but he may have made some kind of joke to the paramedic about Viktor needing medication more than he did.

 

When the doctors were done setting his bones and had finished with his cast, he was brought out in a wheelchair to meet Viktor again, and Viktor had just looked so.... so worn. His face was pale and drawn with worry and he looked more exhausted than Yuuri had ever seen him. His eyes were red from crying, and without even saying a word, he had thrown his arms around Yuuri, and in that moment he had just seemed so fragile....

 

They had stayed like that for a while; Viktor crying into Yuuri's shirt, Yuuri gently petting Viktor's silvery hair and whispering soothing words. Finally Yakov had arrived to pick them up - alone; he had to fight Yurio off to be able to leave the rink without him tagging along - and he drove them back to Viktor's apartment in silence.

 

Viktor had doted on him that night; bringing him cold packs and tea and blankets, cooking for him and rubbing his shoulders and trying to carry him to bed (which Yuuri had laughingly refused - "these crutches work just fine, Viktor!") but all the while, a shadow of the hollowness and shock remained in Viktor's eyes - like he somehow blamed himself.

 

Viktor had tried to act normal that morning, gingerly writing love notes in Russian on Yuuri's cast, singing along to the radio in the car (badly, though he could sing well when he tried, and Yuuri always loved listening to him when he was in the shower and didn't realize anybody could hear) - but something about him still seemed a bit... off.

 

"Here, Yura, take this cold pack," Yakov handed the icepack to Yuuri, sitting down beside him on the bench. "How does it feel?"

"It still hurts," Yuuri sighed, pressing the icepack to his cast, "but I'm fine." He peered out over the rink, watching Viktor launch himself into a gorgeous jump and then follow it with a choreographic sequence. Yuuri knew the routine by heart and could follow along with the music in his head, but something about Viktor's movements seemed more awkward than usual - more stiff; more desperate.

"How is Vitya taking it?" Yakov asked slowly, as if reading the concern in Yuuri's mind, or on his face.

"Not well." He watched Viktor take another jump and over-rotate, dragging his hand along the ice to compensate before standing up again. "He was really shaken up last night."

"He called me from the hospital, you know," Yakov said slowly, carefully studying Viktor's movements on the ice. "He's afraid you'll never skate again."

"Of course I'll skate again! The doctors are very optimistic about my recovery - they think I may even be ready to compete before next season."

"That's what I tried to tell him on the phone - that you're not the type to give up so easily. But I think he's afraid you won't want to," Yakov sighed, tearing his eyes away from Viktor's performance to look at Yuuri. "A fall like that is enough to put fear of the ice into most skaters - I think he's afraid you'll leave the sport."

"Of course not!" Yuuri laughed, "why would he think that?" But the sound of his laughter wasn't quite sincere this time. Of course Viktor would think that - and of course he would blame himself for talking Yuuri into skating another season only to be injured like this. When would Viktor ever understand that he had wanted to stay?

"Yura," Yakov said slowly, meeting Yuuri's brown eyes, "I've been coaching Vitya since he was a boy, and if there's anything in this world that he's afraid of, it's being left alone." And with that Yakov stood, but before he walked away, he clapped a strong hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "Now you heal up fast, Katsuki, and get back out there on the ice."

"Will do," Yuuri smiled back, but his eyes flickered back to Viktor, just finishing his long program routine. Of course he was worried; skating was Viktor's whole world, and he had been so depressed before Yuuri had been a part of it. Before he took the year off to coach Yuuri, his skating had started to look tiring and weighted down... like he was going through the motions with his skates filled with shards of broken glass. He must be afraid of things going back to how they were before - just like he was so afraid of Yuuri retiring - he must be afraid of losing Yuuri, along with the motivation and inspiration and passion he had only just regained. Yuuri watched as Viktor held his last pose for an extra moment before skating back to the gate, slipping the covers on his blades and collapsing down beside Yuuri, gasping for breath from the exertion of skating both of his programs in a row. With programs that difficult, Yuuri couldn't imagine how he'd managed to stay on his feet throughout them both. But Viktor had skated them like he was running away from something - like he was seeking the numbness of exhaustion to mask all other feelings. He had skated like he was desperate.

 

Without a word, Yuuri reached over and grabbed the collar of Viktor's shirt, pulling him sharply forward and pressing their lips together, running the fingers of one hand back through Viktor's star-white hair. And Viktor melted beneath his touch like a person starved, grasping at Yuuri as if afraid he was only a mirage that would turn to smoke in his hands at any second.

"You idiot," Yuuri breathed against Viktor's skin, breaking their lips apart to pull Viktor closer and tighter into his embrace, "when are you gonna realize I'm not going anywhere?"

 


End file.
